Summer and the Secrets of Being
by LifeOfAPortkey
Summary: Hermione Granger's summer days in Ottery St. Catchpole turned into something more as she slowly fell for Ron—an awkward, childish, slightly annoying, lanky ginger with freckled-face and the brightest blue eyes. But he was strange, and his family was far from ordinary. Curiosity took over but the family's big secret might not be far from Hermione's own unspeakable ones after all.
1. Chapter 1: Those Four Gingers

_Fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger wanted this summer to be different. She decided to spend it in the small, beautiful English village called Ottery St. Catchpole where her Great Aunt lived. All she wanted was a little laid-back time to catch up on some reading, but her summer days turned into something more when she met Ron—an awkward, childish, slightly annoying, lanky redhead with freckled-face and the brightest blue eyes. Hermione slowly fell for this boy, but Ron was strange and his family was far from ordinary. Curiosity kept pushing Hermione into trying to unravel his family's big secrets. Turned out, their secrets might not be too far from her own unspeakable ones after all._

**A/N**: Hey all! This is my first fanfic. It's slightly AU. I'm not usually a big fan of AU stories because that's how much I love our Queen Jo, but this idea came to mind and I started having so much fun with it. I'm not much of a writer honestly, and English is not my first language so this story might not be _up there_ in terms of language. I've also never been to England (can someone _please _take me there?) and I live on the other side of the world so this story might not be that accurate in terms of setting description.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, just in case you're wondering...

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Ottery St. Catchpole was all that Hermione Granger had hoped it would be. A small sleepy village—it was tucked safely among its surrounding forest-covered hills as if it wanted no disturbance. On one side, lining the main road that led to the entrance of the village, lied green meadows that would welcome any visitors with their charm. Flocks of sheep could be seen grazing there; excited shepherd dogs not far away, eyeing them closely. When the Devon sun lowered down at the end of each day, their tiny silhouettes would dance lazily on the green canvas that stretched all the way to the hills.

Lovely. That was the first thing that came to Hermione's mind when she first caught sight of the place she was going to call home this summer. Her eyes grew wider as she approached the heart of the village where the only church and all the tiny shops were. She liked the way that the buildings were not 200-feet high and they were not covered in lights and dizzying big screens. She knew from the very beginning that this was going to be a different kind of holiday.

The Grangers tradition when it came to holidays had always been 'travelling with the family'. They always found the holidays the perfect opportunity for some quality family time. It was not that the family needed all-planned-out get-togethers to save themselves—the family functioned just very well naturally. However, Mr. and Mrs. Granger promised themselves that they would take any possible chances available out there to let their daughter have enjoyable holidays. Besides, they definitely loved spending time with her when it was not during school days. Their clever, diligent, brilliant, school-loving, forever-reading-books little girl could get a _little_ bit worked up when it came to her studies— not that Hermione minded it at all.

But this little get-away had been a last-minute plan, at least in Hermione's standard. Since last year, she and her parents were settled with the plan described as a tropical summer in Thai paradise. However, just over a month ago, her parents suddenly decided to take part in a dentistry symposium in German. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were both dentists and were very passionate about their field of work. The new plan was that the family would fly to Berlin, spend a couple of days there, and then fly off to Bangkok. Hermione's parents did not mind missing some of the later parts of the symposium for the sake of their holiday plan. As for Hermione, she was just agreeing to whatever plans her parents made. By that time she was too busy preparing for her exams to care about something like the holiday anyway.

During those busy days, Hermione had to alter her study schedule for a distant cousin's wedding, which annoyed her, but she went anyway as her parents had insisted for her to attend the reception with them. It was during that event Hermione made a big change of plan. She met her Great-Aunt Tiffany whom she only ever met a couple times before but had heard of so many times from her mother's stories. Mrs. Granger used to spend some of the summers of her younger days in the beautiful village of Ottery St. Catchpole with her Aunt Tiffany. Hermione made up her mind then: she was going to have her summer a little different this time. It was not going to be another family holiday. She was fifteen and she wanted a little 'independent' escape and it was just perfect that she had the option of choosing an old scenic English countryside village as her destination. Born and raised among the hustle bustle of London, she felt inspired to get herself some laid-back time. She had pictured herself sitting in an old coffee shop while the local people would go about their lives around her. The weather would be cooling, the quietness calming, and the fresh air filling her with peace as she did what she loved the most in this whole wide world— reading.

And that was exactly what Hermione was doing in that little coffee shop since this morning. It was officially her first day in Ottery St. Catchpole as she had arrived only yesterday's evening. She had passed by that coffee shop on her way to Great-Aunt Tiffy's house. She fell in love with it right away. It was a small old building that literally looked like it had been squeezed forcefully between two identical shop houses. Its maroon brick walls could hardly be seen from the outside as they were almost fully covered with vine. Little green leaves spilled from every part of the walls to the pavement, black-brown roots snaked behind them. Although this whole village was already almost hidden by the hills, this coffee shop certainly took it to a different level. It seemed like all it was trying very hard to do was hide itself deeper.

Near its door, Hermione could read its modest wooden plank: _Sophie's_ _Coffee (and Tea!) since 1921_. It was getting dark when Hermione had arrived there yesterday but she managed to get a glimpse of the lighted room inside. _Lovely_, she thought for the second time that hour.

So today, after a hearty breakfast at her host's place and a short morning walk around the village, Hermione had retreated to the purple armchair by the window at Sophie's Coffee with a book in her hand and an empty cup of coffee on her table. She finally looked up when an old lady in her sixties entered and walked across the room impatiently. Dear Aunt Tiffy, although really kind at heart, always had the look on her face as if she was 28 hours late for her own wedding and then found out that her wedding cake had been white and not yellow.

She loved yellow very much.

"Hi Aunt Tiffy," Hermione smiled to the approaching lady in bright yellow floral dress.

"Hmm," the lady sat down across the table. "Told you I was coming down to have lunch with you, yes? We'll order sandwiches! The Bennetts— descendants of Sophia Bennet, I mean, yes!—they make delicious sandwiches!" With that she hastily stood up and went to the counter. Hermione just chuckled. She definitely needed some getting-used-to when it came to dealing with her Great Aunt.

Waiting, she took a deep breath and sat back on her armchair. She was half pondering, half enjoying the view of the streets outside when her attention was grabbed by a group of young people passing by—their glaring, red hair gleaming under the sun as they walked side by side, chattering excitedly while giving each other light punches on the shoulder every now and then.

There were four of them. Two boys were frighteningly identical. It was not just their looks; even their movements seemed somehow synchronised. They seemed to be the main talkers and were giving each other meaningful looks every so often. Between them was a girl who looked the youngest, probably about 13 years old. Her long silky yet fiery hair bounced lightly behind her as she trampled with an exaggerated angry expression on her face, her arms akimbo, which seemed to make the others laugh. Next to one of the twins, closest to Hermione's window, was a tall, lanky boy with noticeably more freckles than the others and had the brightest, bluest eyes Hermione had ever seen. She never really paid much attention to people's eyes—heck, she _rarely_ cared about people's appearance. She secretly believed and hoped that the less she gave a hoot about how others looked the less attention would others give to her appearance as well. She was never confident with the way she looked: big bushy brown hair (that greeted her with her own personal war every morning), big teeth (which actually were already taken care of by her parents) that were the centre of her friends' name-calling since kindergarten, her too-skinny body that seemed out of proportion compared to her giant puffy hair, and the list went on.

But, those blue eyes outside the window, they were exceptionally captivating. When he laughed his eyes turned into this ocean of happiness which reminded Hermione of that holiday in Cannes when she was—

"Those strange folks! They are back, I see!" Aunt Tiffy's voice and the sound of plates shoved to the table yanked Hermione out of the strange, strange world that was clouding her mind. She felt herself blushing and immediately cursed herself for being such a girl.

"Thanks, Aunt Tiffy," she pulled her plate closer. She got a weak snort as a reply. As she began eating, she fought the urge to look back to catch a glimpse of the group again. She really did not have to _gawk_ at them, right? That was unnecessary and might even be inappropriate. She mentally shrugged.

"What about them, Aunt Tiffy?" Hermione asked after a while, merely to bend the silence at the table. "You know, those people?"

"Those kids? They are a family, a very strange family, yes? They live nearby— outside the village though, don't worry dear! — but they never really get out of their funny home. They've got themselves a bit o' a farm, a small one I heard, but Lord knows how they really feed those children! I heard they've got a lot of children, all red-haired! Not a really friendly lot, I may say. S_trange_ ones, I may say. But we don't mind 'em 'cause we rarely see them anyway!" Aunt Tiffy was loud. Hermione had learned that her aunt's hearing was not the best, which resulted in her loud-speaking habit, which Hermione quickly disliked but had to adapt to anyway.

"Oh," Hermione sighed. She was not particularly interested in this kind of small-town rumours. Besides, she had the feeling that this one had something to do with people's foolish prejudice against people with red hair. She always _loathed_ how people seemed to look down on gingers. It was just a hair colour, for God sake! It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with whether a person had a soul or not! Those bullies were definitely the soulless ones. Some of her friends at school did get bullied just because they were gingers, which _infuriated_ her. Unfortunately, standing up for them also meant that she gave more chances for the _idiots_ to pick on her.

She was starting to search for some other topics to talk about when she saw her aunt leaning forward. She felt obliged to do the same.

"Rumours have it that those... _gingers..._ well," Aunt Tiffy casted a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was listening, "that... _family_ is involved in some kind of... dark magic," whispered Aunt Tiffy, her eyes squinted as if to show how disgusted she was with the idea. "Well, no one cares about it anymore!" She sat back and waved her hand between them as if she was getting rid of an imaginary fly. "This place is as old as time and people can be stuck with their old funny stories. Not me, no! I never put my finger on such... Backwardness! These sandwiches are delicious, yes?"

Hermione could hardly register anything that her aunt had said after the mention of _that_. That... _word_ always gave her a shiver and made her uncomfortable. She fidgeted in her seat as she forced herself to do what she had done a million times before when something got dangerously close to _that._ She shook her head as she needed to clear her mind. "Uh, er, sorry, I- you were saying?"

"These sandwiches? You like them, yes? Delicious, yes?"

They tasted just like any other sandwiches. "Yes- uh, yeah," Hermione smiled. Unconsciously, she shook her head again as she continued looking down at her meal. It was not because she did not like the sandwich; she simply needed the extra push in holding back the dangerous thoughts that were nudging an old rusty gate in her mind. They were ready to flood in, but she would not let it. With a long exhale—a method she had devised when it came to situations like this— she managed to look up, smiling at her Aunt.

"This place is lovely, Aunt Tiffy, by the way. Thanks for taking me in."

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione! Your mother's on the phone!" Aunt Tiffy hollered from downstairs.

Hermione, who was rummaging through her rucksack searching for her new History textbook, which she was _sure_ she had brought, quickly stood up. Her mother had called on her first evening there, and now that she was calling again Hermione accepted the fact that this would be the drill for the rest of the summer.

"HerMIONE!" Another bellow came from downstairs.

"Coming!" Hermione grunted. She was still frustrated that she could not find her textbook and her Aunt's impatience was really not helping with her mood.

"Hey Mum," she said as soon as she got on the phone.

"Hey sweetheart," replied her mother cheerfully. "I hope my dear Aunt Tiffany is not giving you a hard time."

Hermione sighed and glanced at her Aunt who was now busy in the kitchen. "Well, she _is_ kind of loud."

"Told you," her mother snickered.

"Well, I could use a bit of patience, but no, she's been very kind."

"Yeah, I always thought she's really sweet. She just has a different way of showing it."

"Yeah, I guess. How are you and Dad?"

"We miss you!"

"I miss you too, both of you," Hermione smiled. They've only been apart not more than two days.

"So what are you up to?"

"I was just in my room, unpacking some things. This morning I had the chance to walk around the village. I spent the rest of the day at a coffee shop, reading."

Hermione heard her mother gasped. "Sophie's Coffee?"

"Yeah!"

"Lovely place! I miss that little shop. And your day sounds lovely."

"Yeah it was."

"So, what are you going to do after this? Bedtime yet?"

"Well, no. It's a bit too early for that. I'm just going to do a little bit of studying. I'm still intending to get back to school prepared."

Mrs. Granger sighed. "I knew it! We shouldn't have let you spend your holiday by yourself. You definitely still need parental guidance."

This time it was Hermione's turn to snicker. "Mom, you—"

"You need to spend the holiday with us, young woman, so that we can fulfil our basic duties as parents."

"And what exactly are those duties, may I ask?" Hermione laughed.

"Well, one of them is _definitely_ making sure that our child does not spend her _whole_ summer _studying_. That's downright illegal!"

Hermione threw herself on the nearest sofa and laughed her heart out. "It's amazing how very _supportive_ my parents are!"

After a couple minutes of more bantering, the mother and daughter finally said their good nights. Hermione put the phone down and smiled to herself; it's been a lovely day indeed. She thought about what tomorrow might hold for her. She could not wait to spend more hours reading in that little coffee shop — maybe she could bring some of her study materials over this time so she could start covering some of her school works. She did in fact intend to go back to school ready. She did not see why she should neglect her studies simply because she was trying to have a good summertime.

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**A/N:** Reviews? Even grammar-inferi are welcome. I'd like to be able to improve my writing.

Cheers!

-LifeOfAPortkey


	2. Chapter 2: That Dirt on His Nose

**Disclaimer**: Well, I don't own Harry Potter. Surprise surprise...

* * *

"Thanks!" Hermione said to the girl behind the counter as she got her cup of coffee. It was her third day here in Ottery St. Catchpole, and the third time in a row that she had come to _Sophie's Coffee_.

"I've never seen you around, have I? Are you new around here?" asked the girl. She had a friendly smile.

"Yeah," Hermione smiled back. "I'm Mrs. Hopkins's grand-niece. I'm staying with her for the summer."

Her jaw dropped. "You're staying with that _fallow_ yellow—" she stopped abruptly. "I see," she nodded guiltily afterwards. "Well, welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole! We don't get a lot of visitors around here, but I do hope we are treating you well. When did you arrive?"

"Just three days ago." Hermione sat down on the stool next to her. That way she could comfortably talk to her new friend. "And yes, everyone's been really nice!" By 'everyone' she was just referring to her Great Aunt, the waitress she was talking to and that old man she met on the street yesterday morning who helped her with her directions. She realised she had not met a lot of people here—part of the charm should be to experience some local hospitality, right? It would make her summer a lot better if she managed to make some new friends over here. She was never good at making friends, but since virtually no one in this village knew about her before, she could really seize the opportunity of having a fresh start.

"Good to hear that. Where are you from?" The girl had grabbed her own stool behind the counter and sat across Hermione.

"London," Hermione answered after a quick sip of her hot coffee. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"I'm Leonny, Leonny Bennet," she grinned.

"Ah! So you own this place!" Hermione waved her hand around.

"Well, _technically_, I don't own it yet. It's my parents'. Actually, to be more accurate, this place will always be my grandma's. She started this whole thing up when she was young. A great lady, my grandma was! And what a good ol' life she had!"

"Yeah, she must have been amazing! This place is gorgeous!"

Leonny beamed. "Thanks! I've been to London quite a lot of times myself. Spent a year over there when I was about six to live with my Aunt, 'cause my Mum fell really sick. My elder sister lives there now with her family, so I visit them sometimes. Last year I was actually thinking of moving there. You know, get myself into a university over there or something," she shrugged. "But I guess I couldn't really leave this place, and this old little coffee shop. They are my life!" Her eyes scanned the room around her. "Pathetic, I know."

Hermione chuckled. She herself could never, _ever_ think of a good enough reason to abandon her education. Such thing was just completely out of the question. She had been dreaming of going to a good university all her life. However, she was still genuinely amazed by Leonny's choice. She was touched by how much this place could mean to someone. "I can see why you did that, though. This place really has a special charm of its own, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," Leonny grinned. Her eyes had a dreamy faraway look. Suddenly, she twisted her face. "But this place can get a bit... dull sometimes, you know. It's definitely not very big, and nothing really changes around here, besides the people of course. _They_ can't help but getting older and wrinklier."

Hermione laughed at this. "Well, at least _something_ changes! Got to be thankful for that!"

Leonny laughed along. "I'm serious though! I grew up here, spent almost my whole life here. There is scarcely anything new in this place. Same old trees, same old streets, same old people—goodness! Sometimes when I look at the birds flying over this place I _swear_ they are the same old birds."

"Well that's part of the charm, isn't it? A lovely little English village where everyone knows everyone," said Hermione as if she was reciting a headline. "If you live in a big city like London you'll appreciate cordial greetings greatly. _Honestly_, people are becoming less and less neighbourly these days," Hermione shook her head.

"Well, yeah, maybe. But still, same old faces every single day, it can get a bit... er— _boring_," Leonny sighed. "But I shouldn't be complaining, should I? No matter how bleak this place gets, there is still nowhere else I'd rather be. This is home." She was beaming again with traces of genuine happiness in her eyes. "Besides," she pondered for a while, "if I think about it again, I don't exactly know every single person around here. There is still that mysterious family of gingers."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. What is it with this _family of gingers_?

Leonny recognised the questioning look on Hermione's face. "Well, they live all the way on the other side of the hills, further down to the south of the village, I think. I've never gone that far. Don't see why I have to. I don't know anyone who's been down there either," she shrugged. "All my life, I've only seen them a couple of times. I believe they have several children who are probably about our age, but they don't go to school with the rest of us here, so we never get to know them. Practically every child in this place goes to that school round the corner, so I guess those gingers don't attend school at all."

Hermione flinched at this. "It's just hard to believe that there are still some stubborn parents out there who are not giving their children proper education at this age."

"Dunno," Leonny half-shrugged.

Hermione exhaled loudly. "Well, the government should really look into this matter, don't you think?"

Leonny just nodded silently, clearly not so interested in the topic of politics. "I remember years ago one of them came to this coffee shop. It was most probably the father, looking at his age. He looked so awkward and uncomfortable. My sister was serving him that time, and he was _extremely _interested in our... guess what!" Leonny laughed at the memory.

"What was it?"

"_Fans_! Of all things, he kept asking my sister about how our _fans_ worked!" She threw her hands at the direction of the wooden fans rotating lazily above them. "And... and what their functions were! He kept talking about how amazing our fans were! My goodness! Wish you could see my sister's face! It was all red and when he finally left she just exploded with laughter!"

Leonny's laughter was contagious. Hermione threw her head back, laughing at the image she had just been presented.

Then, all of a sudden, Leonny's face froze. She literally stopped moving mid-laughter; her mouth agape, her right hand still raised next to her shoulder. She looked like she had just got the lights sucked out of her life. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the direction of the coffee shop's entrance.

Hermione followed her line of vision and saw a ginger boy entering the room.

It was the tall, lanky boy with summery blue eyes. He stopped on his track after the door closed behind him. Hands in his pockets, he gave the room a quick glance as if to make sure that no one had seen him. Hermione quickly swung her head forward to avoid catching his eyes. She then found Leonny grinning at her — her life had definitely dawned on her once again.

"Good morning," greeted Leonny with her usual cheerfulness—or maybe more than her usual cheerfulness. She looked like she was expecting something _gold_ to come out of the situation.

"Er — uhm, good morning," said the boy nervously. Hermione tried to focus on her cappuccino. No matter how much she wanted to watch the whole scene, she knew it was rude.

"Can I get you anything?" Leonny asked airily.

"Uhm..."

Hermione managed to get a good look of the boy out of the corner of her eyes. He was squinting at the menu which took form of a mini blackboard propped against a mini easel on the counter. He looked like he had no idea what he was looking at. Hermione could not help but to wonder if he could actually read. She felt a pang of pity inside her.

"Tea please," he finally said, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.

"Be right back." Leonny managed to steal a moment for a silent conversation with Hermione before she went in. She rolled her eyes: _I told you_.

Hermione chuckled quietly. When she looked at the boy again, he was taking something out of his pocket. He lifted his fist and opened his hand flat in front of him — a handful of coins resting on his palm. His other hand then carefully picked one of the coins up and he looked at that round, flat, metal piece with full concentration. Hermione realised something.

"Do you need help with that?"

The boy slowly turned his head up to face her, clearly not expecting her to have spoken to him. He flicked his head to look behind him a couple times to make sure that she was not addressing someone else behind him.

"Uhm, yeah, please," he finally answered, extending his open hand closer to Hermione. Hermione leaned forward and skilfully picked up the right amount of coins for his tea and placed them on top of the counter. She tried to look as calm as possible, as if the case of a teenage boy who did not understand how to use the coins was something she dealt with every day.

"Thanks," said the boy, his face a shade of pink, his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

"You're welcome," Hermione smiled back at him.

He was still holding his hand in front of him, this time glancing back and forth between the left-over coins on his palm and a jar of chocolate cookies next to the menu.

"You know, you can still get a cookie if you want to. You have just about enough coins for that," informed Hermione. She hoped with all her heart that she did not sound offensive. She just wanted to help.

"Well then," he grinned shyly after a short while and slowly extended his open hand to Hermione again. Hermione chuckled. She leaned forward again to pick up the right amount of coins for the cookie.

When she finally looked up, Hermione experienced what she could only possibly describe as having her heart skipped a beat. Only then had she realised how close their faces were. Turned out he was watching Hermione's hand moving on his hand closely as if he wanted to study her method of coin-picking. By the time Hermione looked up, his eyes were still looking down at both of their hands, his lips crooked with concentration. Hermione caught herself staring at him for a split second before she got distracted by a pair of dashing blue eyes that suddenly looked right back into hers...

Both heads jerked back at the same time. Hermione hastily placed the coins on the counter. She refused to face the boy, at least not with her face burning that way. Absent-mindedly, she picked up her novel — it was supposed to be her company this morning but it had been completely abandoned — and slammed the book open, forgetting to care about what page she was on the last time. She held the open book too closely to her face, desperate to hide how _embarrassingly_ scarlet she believed her face must have been. She had never been this flustered before, well at least not in this particular way.

"Here's your tea!" Hermione heard Leonny walking back to the counter.

"T-thanks!" said the boy sounding even more nervous this time. There was a brief pause. "Here's the money for the tea, and here's the money for the cookie. Erm… one cookie, please!"

Hermione was still hiding. She concentrated on one particular word printed on one of the pages so very hard that her vision went blurry.

"Here you go," said Leonny lightly.

_Freckles, golden lashes, red fringe, crooked smile, long nose..._

"Thanks," said the boy.

_Long nose... there was something on his nose._

Silence. The boy was still standing there.

He then cleared his throat. "And, _uhm,_ thanks to you for helping me out with the money, I guess."

Hermione finally turned her head, a little too quickly maybe. "Pleasure," she said. She caught the boy's shy smile. He reached out for his cup of tea and was about to retreat from the counter when she opened her stupid big mouth.

"You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" She pointed at her own nose to indicate to him where the dirt was on his nose

He paused for a second — his fingers rested on his cup plate a moment longer before he finally lifted it off the counter. When he faced Hermione again, red on the face, he just shrugged as if to inform her that he did not _bloody_ care about _bloody _dirt on his nose. With that he walked away.

Hermione felt utterly stupid.

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**A/N****:** I know, I know! Simply not enough Romione yet :)


	3. Chapter 3: That Boy She Just Met

**A/N: **I know the pace is a bit slow at this part, but I really want to capture the moment well. Anyway, I think it's time for some fluffy fluff!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just another Muggle stuck with her computer because her Hogwarts acceptance letter never came... (Bad McGonagall!)

* * *

"Well, he is definitely more normal compared to his father," observed Leonny.

Hermione just nodded. She was still holding her novel, this time it was pinned down on the counter in front of her. It gave her a reason to keep looking down.

"And _you,_ Hermione, are acting weird," she giggled. "Did something happen?"

Hermione sighed. She finally managed to make sense of the word on her novel that she was squinting at just now. The word had been "_existence_", and the full sentence had been "_You are part of my existence, part of myself_". The sound of it somehow made her even more uneasy.

"Nothing happened," Hermione finally said, closing her book. "I just helped him with the coins. He seemed unfamiliar with them, which is peculiar, don't you think?"

Leonny's eyes widen, "What—" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "what do you _mean_ he is not _familiar_ with the _coins_?"

Hermione just shrugged. She did not feel comfortable talking about the boy behind his back this way. "He needed help counting them. That was it." No matter how strange his behaviour was, somehow she believed that there must be some kind of underlying explanations to it.

"See? They _are_ strange, aren't they?"

Hermione replied with a weak smile.

"Tell me more! How did he—," Leonny began whispering again.

"Excuse me for a while, will you," Hermione did not seem to have heard Leonny at all. She stood up and grabbed her book and coffee. She gave Leonny a meaningful smile; it took Leonny a few seconds to get it but when she did she was completely dumbfounded.

"Hey, do you mind if I join you?" asked Hermione nervously as she finally stopped by the boy's table.

He frantically jerked the old, battered magazine he was flipping through down to his lap. It was as if his life had depended on how quickly he got that magazine out of Hermione's sight. He looked up at her, eyes wide and filled with shock. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no sounds came out.

Hermione felt heat rushing up her face. What the blooming bucket was she _doing_? She had not really thought about her action before she actually came up to the boy, which clearly was not a very 'Hermione' way of doing things. She was the kind who plans things to the very core. She immediately felt like she just made a huge mistake. What she had done…, it was not… it was plain curiosity. All this talk about 'that-strange-family' this and 'that-strange-family' that was definitely getting into her head.

The thing was, the days in Hermione's life had almost always been a familiar rhythm. She spent most of her time burying her face in her books, doing school works, visiting the library or talking to her parents. Occasionally, she would stop by the museums on some weekends. Then there were the holiday periods to travel abroad with her family. She was not accustomed to 'strange' things, at least as far as it could get for her. If she found something she did not understand, she would make sure that she had the chance to look for some sort of answers in the books. She _liked_ knowing things. Although, to be honest, there was certain... _kind_ of questions that she had managed to peacefully accept that she would never find the answers to. She had successfully trained herself to live with that. But this boy, this family, this _strangeness_; she had the chance to find out more about them, to learn about their situation. She couldn't expect to find a book entitled "_The Strange Family of Gingers: an introduction_" in the library, could she? The only way for her to learn about them was to talk to one of them, right?

Right. What she had done was purely her reaction to this whole... _mystery_. This had absolutely nothing to do with those blue eyes or those golden lashes or that lopsided smile or that dirt on his nose (which was still there!). Nothing at all.

But no matter what it was that had driven her into this situation, it could not make the whole thing any less painfully awkward.

"Well, uhm, if you're busy then it's fine, really," Hermione tried to save herself. "I was just… I'm going to just…," she motioned towards her previous sitting place.

She was about to turn on her heels when he finally cracked. "It's—it's fine." His eyes moved carefully from Hermione to the seat across his table. "You can sit there if you want to."

Hermione pulled all of her senses back into her head and sat down. "Thanks."

He smiled and nervously took a sip of his tea.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I'm new around here—just arrived a couple nights ago. I'm staying with my Great-Aunt Tiffy for the summer. Do you happen to know her? Her name is Tiffany Hopkins." Hermione felt obliged to do the obvious.

He shook his head, "No, sorry." He looked down for a few seconds before his head shot up as if he had just remembered to do something. "Ron—Ron Weasley," he introduced himself awkwardly.

Hermione nodded. This time she was the one taking a sip of her coffee just to give herself something to do.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Hermione finally saw a way to start a conversation.

"What were you reading just—"

Both heads quickly turned. Red faces lurched sideways as they let their owners' eyes fall on anything else that was not the eyes of the person in front of them. They had asked the same question at the exact same time.

Hermione was frustrated by how silly her reactions were, and even more frustrated by how little she could do to control them. She mentally groaned. After taking a moment to pull herself together, she faced him again and let out a chuckle. "Well," she picked her novel up to show him the cover, "Have you read it?"

He squinted. "Charles Dickens?" He shook his head. "No, sorry, never heard of him."

Hermione's response was a soft _oh_ as questions came rushing to her mind. The book had been _Great Expectations._ It was an all-time _classic_! He clearly did not show the faintest sign of ever hearing about it. And what did he mean he had never _heard_ of Charles Dickens? That was just plain sad! Well, at least now Hermione knew that he could actually read.

He cleared his throat. "Well I hope you'll have a great summer here," he said with a newfound confidence. "This place can get a bit too warm sometimes, but it _is_ a nice place." His head turned towards the windows to emphasise his point.

"Yeah, it's lovely," Hermione smiled. "You grew up around here, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Sort of."

"Well, it must have been nice. There is so much… _space_ in this place, and fresh air! I'm from London, by the way."

"I see."

"Have you been there?"

"Of course! Loads of times," he said lightly.

This made Hermione beam. "Really? That's great! Where do you go to?"

"Uh," he seemed surprised by her question. He quickly returned back to his nervous self. "Just… just some shops. I don't think you know them."

"What kind of shops? I may know them. I spend my whole life in that city," pushed Hermione. She was desperate for something common between them.

"Well, uhm…," he scratched his head mindlessly. "Little ones, I suppose."

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

"But King's Cross is nice—the train station I mean," he continued. "You know that place, right?"

This time Hermione could not help it. She rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ I know King's Cross! It's only one of Britain's—if not the world's—most famous train stations."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," he smiled weakly.

She decided to put the subject down. "So what do you usually do around here?"

"Here? Nothing much. We usually just get down here if we need to purchase some... some groceries," he said, shifting on his chair halfway through his sentence.

"I mean, besides that. I didn't mean _specifically_ in this part of the village. How do you usually spend your time here?" Hermione was curious. If these people did not attend school what could they possibly be doing?

"Well, whenever I'm back home for summer or Christmas, I usually just help mom out cleaning the house. She _always_ makes us clean the house."

"You mean you're away most of the time?"

"Yeah, I go to a boarding school."

Boarding school_. Right._ Why didn't she think of that possibility before? "What's the name of your boarding school? I might know some names."

"Well, it's," he fidgeted in his seat, and then carefully continued, "It's a really small one."

Hermione continued to stare at him, not willing to let him escape again with such level of vagueness.

"You won't know about it," he shrugged after a while.

_No_. "What is it?"

He practically scowled at Hermione. "You won't know about it. Trust me!"

"Well, there's only one way to be sure of that, isn't there?"

He stared at her in disbelief. After what seemed like a long while, his lips curved into a smirk. "Well," he leaned forward, and so did Hermione. They stayed that way for a few seconds as Ron seemed to take his time finding the right words. Hermione waited in anticipation. "I won't tell you," he finally whispered, his deep eyes glowed in fake innocence. He then fell back to his chair again with a mischievous smile plastered across his face.

"Really, Ron?" Hermione was not amused.

"Yeah," he was still smiling. "My school's name—it's just _physically_ _impossible_ to say," he said in an overly-dramatic manner.

"That is utter nonsense," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

He just shrugged. "The truth will sound just about the same to you anyway."

"What?"

"Nonsensical."

"I don't get it."

"See?"

"You're making me confused."

"Exactly!"

"That is not even the appropriate response!"

"I was just making my point!"

"What point?"

"That you won't understand."

Hermione sighed. She realised that talking to this boy would require much more patience and energy compared to talking to —_say_—a normal person. Still, somehow, she no longer regretted her action of coming up to him in the first place.

"So I suppose your siblings go to the same boarding school as you?" Hermione finally said with an air of defeat, which she disliked.

"Yeah, of course! We—hang on, how do you know I have siblings?"

Hermione blushed. "Or so I heard."

He continued staring at her.

"My Great Aunt told me."

"How come she knows about my family?"

"Well, let's see… I don't know. Maybe it's because she's been living in this place for a _very_ long time. She said she had heard some things about your family, like how you have a lot of siblings and how your family has a small farm."

He frowned. "You were talking about _us_?" He seemed lost in his mind for a while. "I didn't know we're _that_ famous around here. I mean, we rarely even come down to this village."

"Yeah, one of the reasons they think your family is worth talking about," she said lightly. "Oh, and I think I might have seen you and your siblings walking pass this place on my first day here. It was two days ago. I see you have two brothers and one sister?"

He frowned at Hermione in a way she could not read. "More actually," he finally sighed. "_Five_ older brothers and one younger sister!"

"That's nice!" Hermione shrieked, her eyes glowing.

"No!" he growled defensively. "It's _bloody_ frustrating!"

"That's not a very nice thing to say," said Hermione firmly. "I'm the only child in my family, and I've _always_ wanted to have a brother or a sister. Being the only child can get really lonely, you know."

Ron scoffed. "Oh, _please_! Take mine! Take _all_ of them!" He threw his hands forward. Hermione laughed at this. He beamed at the sight in front of him—the sound of Hermione's cackle had the effect of putting him at ease. "Well, I suppose having one or two is not that bad. But _six_!" he bellowed, "It does get too much to handle sometimes."

"I see," said Hermione in between her snorts of laughter. "Well, is that why you are here alone now? A fallen sibling enjoying some precious moment out of the battle field?"

He smiled, looking embarrassed. "Well, sort of."

"I don't think it's _that_ bad, right?"

"Said the only child."

Hermione began laughing again. "Sorry," she said, red on the face. "So, they all go to the same boarding school as you?"

"Yeah, but only two of my older brothers, me and my younger sister are still at school." There was a short pause. He seemed to be contemplating on whether he should say more on the matter. He then just shrugged. "The older ones, they are already working."

"I see," Hermione nodded. "So four of you enjoying summer break?"

"Well, _they_ seem to be enjoying it more. I'm still trying," he smiled bitterly.

"Oh, _honestly_, you're making it sound really horrible, Ron."

He looked down, his fingers tapping mindlessly on the rim of the plate where his cookie was lying. "Sorry, it's just… today," he took a deep breath. "Well, never mind what happened. Do you want cookie?"

Hermione smiled at the sudden gesture. "No, thanks. It's yours."

He shrugged. "We can share it—that's if you don't mind eating just half."

"Well…" Hermione couldn't help but to feel all warm inside. Ron had reached out for the cookie and he carefully broke it in half. He then offered Hermione one part.

"Thanks."

They ate their cookies in silence, both smiling. The awkward feelings that had almost suffocated them earlier had clearly disappeared.

* * *

They were walking side by side, both with an extra bounce on their steps. Hermione had insisted to walk Ron home just so that she could enjoy another little walk around the village — this time with a company. Ron had refused. "But it's far!" he said. But Hermione just stood up and walked pass him. They exited the coffee shop together in silence.

"But you're not coming with me to my house," he said after a while.

"Wow, that is some great display of local _hospitality_ there," Hermione snorted. But then she just laughed. "It's alright Ron. You don't have to invite me in. I'm not intending to join any war anytime soon—you know, with your siblings."

Ron looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. Thoughts seemed to stream into his mind. "Sorry," he finally said.

Hermione just shrugged. She really did not mind. She was just as content as she could be walking with Ron this way.

"So, what is your favourite subject at this _mysterious_ school of yours?" Hermione said after another moment spent walking in silence. She always liked talking about school.

It took him a while to come up with an answer. "_Sports_?" He sounded uncertain, as if he was not sure that the word he had just said even existed in the first place.

"You mean Physical Education?"

"Yeah, I guess, if that's what Mug— I mean, _you..._ call it."

Hermione was too preoccupied with what she was about to say next that she did not notice the peculiar nature of Ron's reply. "Well, I mean, other subjects? PE is _hardly_ a subject—no offense! But I much prefer subjects that actively encourage us to practice our reasoning skills and demand us to understand important concepts."

Ron looked a bit offended. But he continued anyway, "so what's your favourite subject then?"

"Let's see," Hermione tilted her head to face the sky. "I love History. It's just so amazing to learn about all those things that had happened in the past, and it's even more amazing to think about how much those past events had actually affected the way we are living now, much to our ignorance. And I love Math too. I love how humans' logical ability can stretch so far to discover so many possibilities. And I guess I'm also very fond of Literature. It's…" Hermione stopped abruptly when she saw the horror on Ron's face. "What?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "It's just that… the way you talk about school… it's… _scary,_" he finished his sentence with some effort. "No offense," he quickly added, grinning sheepishly.

Hermione continued walking in silence, smiling. She was not offended at all. For all she knew, she actually felt a tinge of pride blooming inside her as she detected a sense of admiration in Ron's tone. She then just said, "I don't know. I just love school. I love learning new things."

"So I guess you're one of those smart ones."

"Uhm," Hermione tried to find the right words, "I—well, my grades are not _exactly_ bad."

"I assume that means your grades are _very_ good."

Hermione just smiled.

"Lucky you! I'm complete _rubbish_!" He shook his head.

"Don't say that! I think everyone can just get as many good grades as I do if they work hard for them," she said with the tone of determination.

"Trust me, I'm _hopeless_!"

"No you're not!"

"How do _you_ know?"

"I just know," Hermione smiled at Ron. He turned bright pink.

After another few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, Ron came to a halt. Hermione, who was busy taking in the views around her, followed and realised that they were at the end of a street. In front of them the stone pavement they were currently standing on met a small pebbled pathway that led up to the hill. The crowns of the trees of the surrounding forest stooped on either side of the pathway so it lied safely under their shadows.

"This is it, then," Ron said reluctantly. "I'll walk alone from here."

Hermione looked up, puzzled. "Why can't I just walk a bit further? The pathway looks nice."

"No," he said simply.

Hermione cocked her head. "And why is that?"

"Because," he turned towards the forest, "it's _dangerous_."

Hermione laughed. "What could possibly happen down there, Ron?"

"Well, how do you know I'm not some kind of _criminal_ who is going to abduct you and tie you to one of those trees until a pack of wolves come over and have a _feast_ on you?" Ron scowled dramatically.

"Nah, I don't think I look that delicious for the wolves," Hermione said lightly, chuckling. "And thanks for coming up with such a brilliant plan, Ron. That's very comforting."

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, woman, _you_ are staying here," he pointed to her, "and I'm walking home because I'm _starving_," he pointed to himself, "and _you_ have no say in that," back to her.

"My friends always said that I'm the bossy one," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Guess now we have competition."

He looked at Hermione in disbelief for the second time that day. He seemed to be out of words.

"Fine!" Hermione bellowed after some time. "Go! Good bye, Ron! Have a delightful lunchtime. I hope the wolves don't find you before that, or _you'll_ be their lunch. See you around!" She waved her hand carelessly and turned on her heels.

"Wait," he said quickly. "It's not... it's just... I didn't..."

Hermione turned around and immediately softened at the sight of Ron standing there, flustered like a little boy. His right hand in front of him as if he wanted to reach for her but did not dare too; his eyes wide, meeting her own eyes with what looked like the most sincere apology the world could ever offer. She smiled at him, feeling guilty for making him feel guilty in the first place. "I'm just kidding, Ron. It's fine, really. It's been great talking to you."

"Yeah, nice talking to you too." His apologetic expression melted into a smile—though the sincerity from before had stayed. Hermione swore the summer heat had suddenly tripled around her.

For a moment they just stood there, gazing at each other's eyes, lips curving into smiles. Red and brown hair played in the summer breeze, tossed about as if they were dancing to a quiet song. The summer was blissful, and the two teenagers were happy.

"Good bye, then," Ron said finally.

"Yeah, good bye," she waved at him, suddenly feeling shy again.

He reluctantly pulled his gaze from her eyes and turned his body around. Hands in his pockets, he started walking towards the forest. A few steps later, he stopped and turned around again, finding Hermione still standing there, looking at him. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Hermione, blushing.

He was half-facing the forest again when he heard her.

"Ron!"

He turned to face her for the second time. She pointed at her nose and started tapping her index finger on the right side of her nose, grinning. He grinned back at her, rubbing his nose clean of the dirt that seemed to bother that girl a lot. When he was done he turned around again and started walking, finally entering the forest.

At that moment, there were so many things Hermione wanted to say, so many feelings she wanted to let out. She wanted to jump and sing and dance and breathe and fly and melt at the same time. But for now she just stood there, her eyes never leaving the back of the boy she had just met that morning until the last flash of red hair disappeared under the shadows of the green forest.

* * *

**A/N: **What _is_ Romione without a bit of blushing and bickering, ay? Review so I know what you think about this story so far! :)

Love,

LifeOfAPortkey


	4. Chapter 4: That Old Bench

**A/N**: Heya! I'm back. First of all, thanks for all the reviews! It's really nice to know that there are actually _actual_ people reading this story. Special thanks to Justy13 who pointed out that they are called _gingers_ there, not red heads. I really do need help on this whole British-term affair :D Second, I know it's been fluffy so far (I can't help it, guys!). This chapter is still sort of fluffy, but let me just say that it's going to be the start of something else. Third, I am having too much fun writing this story. I'm still at school and I find myself zoning out a lot because I keep thinking about this story: what should happen next, how the end should be, etc. It's sort of dangerous, really, but I hope it's worth it.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter? Not mine apparently.

* * *

"Hey, Mum"

"Hello, sweet heart. How was your day?" asked Hermione's mom during yet another evening phone call with her daughter.

"Ok." Hermione lied.

There was a short pause. "What happened?" Well, her mother was never exactly a person Hermione could lie to.

"Nothing," she said, not lying this time. _Nothing_ was precisely what had happened. She then continued, "Nothing much, really. I mean I did the same thing again; went to _Sophie's_. I managed to do some essay practices over a cup of coffee."

"Ok." Another short pause. "You don't sound like you had much fun doing that."

Hermione gave up. She simply sighed.

"You know, sweet heart, there are a thousand other things you can do over there. Don't spend every single day doing the _same_ thing in the _same_ coffee shop. Listen, I remember when I was there I used to have my own little picnic. Ah! There was this beautiful green field I used to go to, and I used to sit under one of the trees, you know, enjoying the weather. I'd bring some sandwich and lemonade and a book to read. It was nice!"

Hermione pictured herself doing that. "Yeah, actually that sounds lovely, Mum," she then said, genuinely considering the idea.

"Yes! You should do that sometimes. You'd bound to get bored if you keep doing the same thing, you know that?"

"I know, Mum, but it's not that," Hermione mentally groaned. No, although she did intend to discover more things to do in that village, she was perfectly fine spending her days reading or doing her works in that little quaint coffee shop. She felt frustrated because — she tried to deny this as she thought it was such a _stupid_ reason to be frustrated about — she had not seen Ron at all since they had met four days ago. The morning after that day in the coffee shop, she had woken up feeling strangely over the clouds and gone to the coffee shop earlier than usual. Somehow she had assumed that she would see Ron again. She tried to concentrate on her work, but it was not very easy with her head turning towards the door every time it swung open to let someone in. She kept expecting to see that flash of red hair, but Ron never came.

Still no sign of him on the next day.

Or the day after.

Or today.

Hermione felt stupid for being so affected by Ron's absence. She had only met him once for God sake! What was it that made her think their little meeting was so special that Ron would start coming down to the village more often? That was just plain delusional. Leonny had told her that Ron's strange family rarely ever came down to the village. Ron grew up in this place yet it looked like it was his first time being in that coffee shop four days ago. For all Hermione knew, she might never see Ron ever again.

She felt something shrinking in her chest.

No. What was _wrong_ with her? She could not be one of those silly, shallow, infatuated young girls who insensibly swooned over a boy they had only met once. No. She was Hermione. She was the smart, highly-intellectual, independent Hermione. This was stupid. She was being stupid.

_I'll see you around, yeah?_

But _he_ had said that. That was the kind of thing a person would say if he was intending to actually _be_ around to _see_ her, right?

This was all his fault.

"Hermione," she heard her mother said from across the line.

"Yeah?"

"If you don't like it there we can always arrange for you to come back, you know that?"

"Yeah," Hermione muttered. But no, she was not the kind of girl who changed her plans just because some stupid boy she met did not show up. "I know Mum, thanks, but no. I like it here and I'm just starting to get comfortable, really. Please don't worry about me."

"Alright, dear, but do consider having that nice little picnic," said her mom. "You can even bring those new friends of yours along. What are their names again? Leonny? And the other one—Rick was it?"

"It's _Ron_, Mum."

"Right, yes, sorry. Bring Ron and Leonny along! I bet they'll love it too," said her mom cheerfully.

_Yeah_, but sadly Hermione might never have the chance to ask a certain _one_ of them to go with her because he happened to live a mysterious life in the middle of the jungle and refuse to come out.

"Yeah, I'll ask them about that." She'd probably ask Leonny. "You and Dad ready for your flight tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we've almost finished packing. We delivered Crookshanks to the pet hotel this morning, by the way."

"Oh, Crookshanks! I miss him."

"He misses you too. Wouldn't stop purring his lungs out on our way today," said her mom, laughing. "Anyway have a good night sleep, Hermione."

"Yeah, you too, Mum."

"Good night, love," a different voice suddenly spoke on the line.

"Ah, Dad! Yeah, you too! Good night. Have a safe flight tomorrow!"

* * *

When Hermione woke up that morning she was determined to have a good day ahead, which for her meant that she had to stop thinking about a particular ginger boy. The '_good morning'_ she had greeted her great aunt with had been more cheerful than usual (which her dear old great aunt had responded to with a twitch on her lips that _almost_ resembled a quick smile). After yet another hearty breakfast – Tiffany Hopkins was an excellent cook, by the way – Hermione picked up one of her books and started for the streets. She took deep breaths of the fresh morning air and the simple act had reminded her of the reason she wanted to go there in the first place.

She had no specific destination in mind so she let her feet lead her to wherever they felt like going. After more than ten minutes worth of wandering around, she started recognising the pattern of the houses and the small plants by her sides. The alley looked familiar and she knew exactly where its end led to.

When she arrived at the clearing where the stone pavement met the pebbles, she stopped to look at the forest in front of her. She tried to keep her expectations at bay as she lurched forward to see if there was any _suspicious_ movement among the trees. After shaking her head to remind herself of the good day she intended to have, she turned around.

Not far away from where she was standing there was an old wooden bench. Its rough texture and the tiny green leaves sprouting on its surface made Hermione wonder if it had been there for at least a hundred years. She came closer and carefully pressed her palm on it to test its strength. After she was sure that it could hold her weight, she sat down, opened her book and readied herself for another one of her glorious reading sessions.

She was rereading her copy of _The Remains of the Day_ by Kazuo Ishiguro. It told a story of an old English butler who spent his life serving a Lord who happened to be a Nazi sympathizer. The butler took his occupation very seriously to the point where he neglected everything else, including his father and the love of his life, and even compromised his own beliefs. He did everything he could so as to live up to his expectations as a butler. One day he decided to take a trip to the English countryside and throughout his journey he discovered a deeper understanding of his past and finally addressed all the regrets he had in his life. The book had somehow made Hermione feel a bit worried — maybe she herself was taking her studies too seriously? Everyone kept telling her that, so maybe it was indeed true that she needed to review her priorities in life. What if it turned out that there was so much she was missing because of her devotion to her education? Well, the book's journey motif had also been one of the things that inspired Hermione to spend her summer here in Ottery St. Catchpole.

She was deeply buried in words when she suddenly saw something bright darted across the clearing.

It was… _well_, him.

"Ron!" Hermione shot up, surprised by her own sudden reaction.

Ron, who was running in full-speed, jolted to a halt.

"Hermione?" he creaked, clearly surprised to see her there. Hermione herself had sounded much louder than she had intended to, which definitely added to the effect. But she couldn't help it. The mysterious boy that had caused her so much inner confusion in the last four days was there, in front of her, grinning like an idiot.

"Hey," said Hermione when she finally had some sort of control over the situation. She tried to sound normal, as if Ron's appearance had meant nothing much to her. It was not an easy task.

"Hey," Ron replied, beaming while still trying to catch his breath. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was sweating profusely, his face red with heat.

"Why were you running?" asked Hermione, a puzzled look crossed her face. She was confused, but it was not just over the sight in front of her. Somehow she could not really make out what she was feeling inside either. She was definitely excited to see him again, more excited than she would admit, but there was something else. Her heart was not beating the usual rhythm.

"Er—I was…," he nervously ran his hand through his hair as he paused to avoid Hermione's eyes. "Nothing," he finally muttered. He was already red from the running, but Hermione swore it was still possible for him to blush.

"I see," Hermione let out a chuckle. She did not understand what was happening to her but she would figure it out later. For now she was glad to have, well, _company_, and she indeed wanted that good day she had determined to have this morning. She exhaled and then raised her eyebrow playfully. "Yet another thing a mortal being like me wouldn't understand, huh?"

"Indeed," Ron gave an evil laugh and walked towards her. "What are you doing here?"

"Reading," she waved the book she was holding. She suddenly realised that being there might look to him as if she was waiting for him, which _clearly_ was not true. "People said that looking at green objects does good to your eyes. I thought I'd read in front of the forest so every time I look up from my book I can give my eyes some rest."

He stared at her, unconvinced. "Oh, I thought you were making friends with the wolves."

"Well, I am now," she grinned. She sat back down on the bench and gestured for him to sit next to her. She realised that she just made a big mistake a second too late.

With a loud crack, the bench gave away under them. Hermione shrieked as she fell to the grass, her bum first and then the rest of her body. Ron stood back up as quickly as humanly possible, guilt written all over his face.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry! I must have weighed like a bloody _Troll_. I'm so— Hermione, are you alright?"

Still sprawled on the ground, Hermione looked like she was holding a pain in her chest. And then, when she could no longer contain it, she burst into laughter like never before. She curled to one side, clutching her stomach. Her laughter had that snorting sound that Hermione knew sounded really horrible but had no control whatsoever whenever she had seen or heard something _really_ funny.

"Your… face… Ron… your… _face_… just… _now_!" she attempted to talk as she continued laughing. "You should have seen your face! It's so funny!"

Ron, embarrassed at first, just grinned. "Shut up! _You_ should have seen _your_ face!" he then laughed along. "Come on, Hermione! _Up_! Stop laughing like a madwoman." He offered his hand to Hermione. She needed a while to get herself together but then she took his hand.

"We should get you some water," Hermione said as she got on her feet.

"Yeah, I'm parched."

She realised she was still holding Ron's hand. She did not know what to do with it. What is the normal thing to do in situations like…

Ron took his hand away, fully aware that Hermione was staring at their holding hands.

"Thanks," Hermione said at the wrong moment. _Stupid girl_. She meant to thank him for helping her stand up, not for taking his hand away. She was apparently the opposite of grateful for the latter.

"What, for breaking the bench? Don't mention it," he said cheerfully.

"Oh, trust me I won't!"

"Good! It wasn't the best moment of my life."

"Yeah, I definitely could see it from your face just now. Your eyes were like _this_ big and your mouth was like _ahhh_ and I swear you looked like your life was about to end or something," Hermione started giggling again.

Ron cocked his head as if he was in deep thought. "Nah," he said as he shook his head. "In my head, even in the way you describe it, I still look _charming_."

"Yeah, Ron, in _your_ _head_, which hit the ground not a minute ago," she rolled her eyes playfully, still amused by what she had witnessed. "Come on, let's get you some water."

"Wait, I," Ron suddenly raised his voice, stopping Hermione on her way. He pursed his lips and looked to his side, thinking. He then continued, "I can't be down here for too long, you see. My parents will go mental if they find out I'm not home. They are out for now, so I sort of sneaked out, but they'll come back soon, so…"

_Of_ _course_. She could not expect a normal day with Ron Weasley. Just when he suddenly appeared after four days of missing in action he just had to rush back into that forest again. "Okay," Hermione said, nodding. "We'll just go to my Aunt's house and get you some water." She smiled.

"Okay," he said.

They began walking; Hermione with her book clutched in front of her and Ron with his hands in his pockets. "So why did you come down here in the first place, then?" asked Hermione after they turned round the corner, away from the clearing.

He shrugged. "I was…, well," He really was not good at finding his words, "bored." Hermione saw him turning red. He cleared his throat. "Fresh air is good for your health, right?"

"Right," Hermione chuckled at his poor attempt to change the topic. She did not want to push him for his reason; she was just glad that he was there, with her.

* * *

He really needed to rush. He was sitting in Aunt Tiffy's kitchen, finishing his glass of water in a few gulps, when he looked at the clock and jumped on his seat. "_Bloody hell!"_

"_Ron_! Don't swear like that here," Hermione hissed.

"Sorry," he whispered sheepishly. "I really need to go. My parents are going to _kill_ me," he hurried to hand Hermione his empty glass. "Thanks, Hermione!"

"Your parents are not going to kill you, because if they are capable of such atrocity, I bet they've had _loads_ of better reasons to do it before. Oh, and you're welcome," said Hermione, grinning.

He smiled at Hermione and turned around to hastily open the kitchen door. Hermione felt a pang in her chest at the familiarity of the sight. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" he turned back to face her.

"Would you like to join me for a picnic?"

"Sure," he replied lightly, more quickly than Hermione had expected. "When?" he continued, his face beaming

"Tomorrow," Hermione said with a firm tone. Her word had no hint of a question – it was more of an order. Ron had to come back _tomorrow_. "That is if… you know… if your parents don't mind," she sighed, admitting to herself that she was not really the one to demand such things.

"I'll make sure of that," he said with equal firmness. His face glowed with determination for a few seconds before his usual playful expression reached him again. "I'll see you tomorrow? Is ten o'clock okay?"

"Ten's great," Hermione replied, a smile playing on her lips. "Ten's excellent."

"Okay, meet you at that… _crime scene_?" he grinned mischievously.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"See you tomorrow, Ron."

"See you tomorrow, Hermione."

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**A/N : **Review please! Thanks very much!


	5. Chapter 5: That Picnic Plan

**A/N:** So I guess here's the drill from now on: one chapter per week! I'll try to stick to that. I'm currently in that part of life where I'm supposed to work extra hard to fulfill my childhood dream of going into a college somewhere in the States *fingers crossed* so yeah I'm pretty busy. Anywayskies, here's a chapter I spent the longest time writing so far. I just couldn't get it right for some reason, but I'm quite satisfied with the way it is now. It's supposed to be longer and have a darker end, but I decided to split the part into 2 chapters.

Hope you enjoy this one!

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Harry Potter is still not mine...

* * *

Was this a date? This was a date, right? Yes. Hermione had asked Ron out for a picnic and it was a date. She had simply abandoned the earlier plan of asking Leonny to go with her, so it was just going to be the two of them, having a nice little picnic in the lovely summer air. She was going to have a date with Ron Weasley; the boy whom she met only a few days ago but who had caused her so much confusion and frustration ever since.

Right. This was happening, and she was _really_ excited.

It's not that she had never been on a date before; she did in fact go to her school's Christmas party last year with that Tony Vander Heiden boy. She had not expected anyone to ask her but then he suddenly came up, telling her that he had been seeing her around (mostly in the library) and was wondering if she would be his date for the party. Hermione, surprised and maybe a bit scared, simply said yes. It apparently made many girls in her school so very jealous of her. Tony was a new student who instantly became the school's football star and the reason a lot of girls went to school for. Hermione couldn't lie, he was indeed charming. She enjoyed his company very much, even though she would appreciate it if he could actually pronounce her name correctly. It was apparently hard for his Dutch tongue.

_Tongue_.

Hermione shivered every time she thought of that moment after the party when, _well_, he kissed her. She did not expect it at all and was downright terrified when he suddenly pushed her against the wall in the middle of their laughter and stared at her and then down to her lips. She believed she must have looked really stupid then, her eyes wide and mouth agape, and when he finally leaned forward she shrieked. He took it that she was shrieking out of excitement but she was not _exactly_ excited — she was confused and could only try to _concentrate_ at what was happening. It was her first kiss, and she thought it ought to be lovely but Hermione could hardly remember anything from that moment besides the fact that she felt weird. She never said anything about that to Tony, though. He kept following her around for another month until he finally got the hint that Hermione wanted nothing more between them than just friends.

She had been nervous about that Christmas date but her mother was there to help her dress up and to assure her that everything was going to be fine (by saying "you'll be fine" at the rate of one hundred times per hour). This time with Ron, Hermione was all alone. Luckily she had brought a dress with her —her Mum's silly idea, saying that it was a perfect dress to be worn in the summery fields of Ottery St. Catchpole. She had thought that she would never find good enough reasons to wear it but she put it in her trunk anyway simply to make her mum shut up. She certainly did the right thing. This morning Hermione was wearing that periwinkle dress as she looked at herself in the mirror – her mind sending telepathic _thank-yous_ to her mum. She did not think she looked _that_ good in a dress but she certainly did not feel like wearing t-shirt and shorts today.

She decided to tie her hair in one long braid that fell over her shoulder. Braids were always the easy way out when it came to taming that bushy hair of hers. Once she was done she ran downstairs to pack the picnic meal she had prepared earlier that morning; ham sandwiches and lemonade. It was nothing much, but she had made everything herself and she was proud of it. She hoped Ron would like it too.

She left and soon found herself standing at the end of the pathway, leaning against one of the trees while both of her hands held on to the picnic basket her Great Aunt Tiffy had so nicely lent her. It was twenty past ten. Ron was late.

_Maybe his parents had not allowed him to go._ _Maybe he's not very excited about this and simply woke up late. Maybe he changed his mind and decided not to come…_

Hermione's not-so-pleasant thoughts quickly tuned out as a blue fabric suddenly appeared among the distant trees. Soon Hermione could hear his footsteps crunching their way down the pathway. At the first sight of Ron, something took flight in Hermione's stomach. She straightened herself up and faced him.

Ron was carrying a rucksack on his back. When he finally looked up, he grinned and waved at her.

"You're late!" _Great_. She could not even _wait _to complain. He was still a good thirty-foot away.

"I'm sorry," he said, although he did not sound so, "but I had some matters to take care of first."

"But you're still late." _No_. Hermione was bad at this. She was going to ruin _everything_.

"Sorry," he said again, smiling sheepishly this time. "I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

She liked the sound of it. "Good. I'm counting on one big, grand gesture there."

"That doesn't sound too hard," he replied with a playful look across his face. He took another few more steps until he was finally standing in front of her, his hands pulling his rucksack straps. "So, where do you want to go?"

"Well, my mum said there is this nice field near the village's entrance, but it's on the other side of the village, though. Do you mind a bit of walking?"

"No, of course not. But," he said, stopping to turn his head towards the forest, "Well, there is this…," he turned to face her again, his lips pursed lopsidedly, "Well, it's quite a nice place. It's a bit of a clearing inside the forest, actually. It sort of has nice flowers around it. I go there sometimes. It's… not bad. We can go there, if you want. Well, that is if—" he stopped abruptly as Hermione barged past him. She had gone towards the forest; a smile blooming across her face as she turned to face him again.

"Come on, Ron! Let's go there, then!"

No response. He was staring at her.

"Ron!" Hermione howled, frantically waving her hands in front of him. "Still here?"

He snapped back to reality and quickly looked down, pink to his ears. "Yeah, _uhm_, sorry," he said with a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. His feet meddled with the dry leaves on the ground for a while before he finally looked up and caught her eyes again. "You look nice, that's all."

Hermione loved her mum _so_ _very_ _much_ it hurt.

* * *

It was not hard to spot the place Ron had wanted them to go to. The challenging part was actually getting there in the first place. After twenty-minute worth of walking under the calming shadows of the forest, Ron stopped and gestured for Hermione to follow him. They went out of the main track; cutting through thick bushes, climbing fallen logs, ducking under the tangled branches. These were the sort of tasks that was far easier for Ron compared to the London girl in Hermione. Ron had repeatedly suggested for them to give up and just go back, but Hermione would have none of it. Every time they faced a new obstacle, Ron would start with one of his long apologetic speeches and Hermione would simply walk past him. The more Ron apologised, the bolder she became; she wanted to prove to Ron that she could take it all.

Besides, Hermione secretly enjoyed the numerous times they had to hold hands as they tried to jump over a log or squeeze through thick scrubs or balance on a boulder. She especially loved those moments when their way was pretty much clear but they had simply forgotten to let go of each other's hand.

They spent the rest of their trip hiking, trying their best to cut through the forest uninjured. After a while the ground grew steeper under them. At one point Hermione had considered asking for a break — something Ron had suggested multiple times before to which she had stubbornly declined — but she hesitated because she did not want to appear weak. Turned out, she did not have to. After a little bit more of walking they finally reached an opening, and Hermione knew they had arrived.

In front of them the forest had suddenly cleared, revealing a wide patch of green grass. Hermione caught her breath when she saw what lied next to the field; a wildflower meadow stretched across one side of the clearing before the forest found its way again. Pink, blue yellow flowers brushed lazily against each other in the sea of tall, green grass as the mild summer breeze played among them.

"This is beautiful, Ron," was all Hermione could say. It was more than beautiful. It was perfect.

He shrugged. "Yeah, if only it was easier to actually _get_ here," he said as his hand reached forward to Hermione's head. Hermione eyed his hand with a puzzled look only to find Ron mindlessly picking a small twig that was apparently stuck in her hair. He tossed the twig away and peered at the forest behind them, looking guilty. "Sorry about that Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was worth it. She would take twice of that hiking trip if it meant she could find herself among this scenery, and five times of it if it meant she could be here with Ron. She spread her arms and bounced her way to the middle of the field, Ron at her heels. When she spun around she found his face so close to hers —something that would usually result in both of their heads jerked back awkwardly— but something about this place and the weather did not let their usual nervousness take over. They simply grinned at each other, followed by a series of giggles even though none of them could really tell what it was that's so funny in the first place.

They chose a spot in the middle of the field. There were plenty of cooler places that lie under the shades of the trees but the sun was bright in a comfortable way that they did not mind sitting under it. Once they spread the picnic blanket, they settled down and Hermione took out their lunch.

After almost an hour of hiking, they had finished their sandwiches faster than their normal speed. They were holding their half-empty bottles of lemonade as they continued sitting on their picnic blanket in peaceful silence. Hermione's eyes wandered about; she still needed time to really take in the beauty of the place she had found herself in. She turned to see Ron taking something out of his rucksack.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the brown package.

"Apple tart?" he raised his eyebrows, wondering where Hermione was getting at. "Don't worry, I didn't make it," he grinned while he unwrapped the package.

"Who did, then?"

"Mum."

"She knows you're here?"

"No."

"But she made the apple tart for you to _bring_ _over_ for the picnic?"

"No. I sneaked it out of our kitchen."

Hermione straightened up. "You _what_?"

He shrugged. "Don't worry. I only took two slices. One's mine anyway. The other one—well, let's just assume it's Ginny's. She wouldn't mind."

"Who's Ginny?"

"My sister."

"Then have you asked her about it?"

He gave out a long exhale. He then looked at her for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. "You do ask a lot of questions, don't you, Hermione?"

Hermione scowled up at him. "Yeah, but asking questions is hardly a crime, Ron, compared to — let's see — _stealing_!"

He rolled his eyes. "_Fine_! If you don't want the cake then don't take it. I'll just eat both of them."

"Just eat one then, you can return the other slice to your sister."

He stared at her, completely stunned. "It's – just – a – _CAKE_ – Hermione!"

"I know! I just don't think you should steal, that's all!"

"Trust me, in the context of my family, stealing a cake is hardly considered a crime. Fred and George did much, _much_ worse things!"

"That does not give you an excuse to steal from your mu—," she could not finish her words. Ron had all of a sudden shoved a small chunk of the apple tart into her mouth. She had no choice but to chew the piece of sweetness in her mouth. "_Ron_!" she yelped, covering her mouth.

He laughed mischievously. "Now you are officially part of the crime."

"No!"

"Too bad! You ate the stolen cake, you _benefited_ from the crime, so you're part of it!" he was still laughing, amused by Hermione's reaction.

She smacked his arm. "Not funny. I could have choked to death."

"No, you wouldn't."

"But I could've!"

"No."

"How do _you_ know?"

"I just know," he smiled at his own clever remark. Hermione had said the exact same words to him. Hermione understood what Ron was doing and could only roll her eyes away. They spent the next quiet minute lost in their own minds.

"How do you know about this place, anyway?" Hermione asked after a while.

"When I was small my brother Charlie used to come here to practice… _erm_—well, he… he brought me here sometimes to watch him play."

"Practice? So he's into sports too?"

"Yeah, he's brilliant, in fact!"

"What kind of sports do you boys do?"

"We—_huh_? Well, we…, uhm," Ron mumbled as he scratched his head nervously. When he finally dared to look at Hermione again, he just sighed. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Why? I thought you love sports?" Hermione asked, rising her eyebrows. She was growing tired of not getting answers from Ron.

"Let's talk about something else."

"What sports do you like?"

"Let's talk about something else."

"Stop it, Ron! You're getting annoying. _Goodness_!" Hermione threw her hands in the air.

He seemed taken aback. He had that apologetic look back on his face, the one that was so sincere that Hermione always found it hard to remember what made her angry in the first place. "Sorry," she finally said. "I didn't mean to scream."

"That's alright," he shrugged. "I know I must be _bloody_ annoying, but sometimes there are things I just… I'd rather not talk about. Is that okay with you?"

She looked into his eyes. There was so much depth in them. Hermione was amazed by the range of things those blue eyes could do; just a while ago they were sparkling in brilliant shades of blue, now they were as still as a vast calm ocean. She found herself lost in his gaze.

"Hermione?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. So what do you want to talk about then?"

"You."

All her life her friends had told her about how their minds could just suddenly go blank in the middle of examinations. She always thought it was just another one of her friends' excuses for not doing well in their papers because Hermione herself had never experienced it. But today, it turned out that a single word, _a single one_-_syllable_ _word_ from Ron Weasley was all it took for her mind to do just that.

"Eh, what? Well… what about me?" she asked, struggling for words, which rarely ever happened to her, and she wondered if she was still the same Hermione.

"I don't know," he mumbled, shrugging. He then leaned back to stretch his legs out and prop himself on his hands. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Well," she said, following Ron by shifting her position into a more comfortable one, "when I was small I wanted to be a librarian."

"A Librarian? _Really_? Isn't that kind of boring?"

"Wow, thanks for the support there, Ron," she sneered.

"You're welcome. But luckily you've changed your mind, I hope?"

She glowered at him. "Well, _luckily_, I have. I am actually thinking of becoming a doctor."

"A _what_?"

"A doc— oh, please don't tell me you don't know what a _doctor_ is, Ron?"

He squinted at the sky as if he was trying to remember something he had learnt before. He then just shook his head. "No, sorry."

Hermione was really out of words this time. Ron did not know what a _doctor_ was. It was just bizarre in its own way.

She sighed. "So who do you see when you fall ill, then?"

He cocked his head. "So, uhm, a doctor's like a _healer_?"

"Well, yeah, you can put it that way, I guess. I mean, it's their job to heal people," she replied. Hermione smiled at the look of understanding that slowly reached Ron's face. Maybe, to be with Ron was to accept that he _was_ strange. Whatever life it was that he was living; it was not an ordinary kind. A lot of people used to accuse Hermione of being strange too, so why should she be so disturbed about it? Strange things happened, she knew that, despite of things. Another thing she knew now was that she liked being with Ron and she did not mind a shift in perspective in order to do that right.

"You know what, Ron?"

"What?"

"Sometimes I wonder if you're actually an _alien_."

"An ali—_what_?"

"Aliens. You know, creatures living on other planets."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I dunno," she simply said, grinning at him. "Sometimes I just wonder if we come from different worlds."

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**A/N: **Reviews are much much appreciated! Thanks for reading :)


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